


all the words that leave my tongue, feel like they came from someone else

by e1iana



Series: life is a cycle, what comes around goes around [1]
Category: Grey’s Anatomy
Genre: Addiction, Depression, Derek is in this fic but he’s still dead lol, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, F/F, Grief, LMAO, Multi, Overdose, Sisterly Love, bisexual Amelia because fuck you, lol, pushing people away because that’s what Amelia does, wrote this in like one day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27901462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/e1iana/pseuds/e1iana
Summary: Amelia knows she’s falling into the cycle again, but she can’t find it in herself to care. Not, at least, when she’s like this. Derek is dead. Derek is dead. Meredith is gone. Anything that was good in her life started unraveling at the seams and she can’t help but laugh. So she does. She leans her head against the wall and laughs.or; amelia is spiraling back into the throes of addiction after derek’s death, and she’s the only one who can save herself. that doesn’t mean she can’t have supporters along the way.
Relationships: Amelia Shepherd & Derek Shepherd, Arizona Robbins/Amelia Shepherd, Maggie Pierce & Amelia Shepherd, Meredith Grey & Amelia Shepherd
Series: life is a cycle, what comes around goes around [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2054088
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	all the words that leave my tongue, feel like they came from someone else

**Author's Note:**

> title from paralyzed by nf. also I just realized how many times I repeat words in this I’M SO SORRY LMFAOO. also; amelia is bi 😌

_The cycle._

That’s what they call it. The cycle.

Experimentation

_Ring around the Rosie,_

Regular Use

_Pockets full of posies,_

Risky Use

_Ashes!_

Dependence

_Ashes!_

Addiction

_We all fall down._

Amelia knows she’s falling into the cycle again, but she can’t find it in herself to care. Not, at least, when she’s like this. Derek is dead. Derek is _dead_. Meredith is gone. Anything that was good in her life started unraveling at the seams and she can’t help but laugh. So she does. She leans her head against the wall and laughs.

Wild. Manic, laughs bubble from her mouth. 

She laughs, and laughs, and laughs. She laughs until she doesn’t. She laughs until she gasps for air. Until she can’t breathe. 

A tear drips down her cheek, but she pays it no mind.

—

Five minutes. It’s been five minutes since she snorted the orange powder through a McDonald’s straw. 

The warmth starts within, akin to a candle being lit on a cold day. It starts right in the middle, barely detectable. The warmth spreads up her spine. There’s a… pressure, or, maybe a presence, in her head. Behind her eyes. 

Her throat feels dry. Water. She needs water. 

She tries to stand up, but the floor wavers beneath her feet. Rising and undulating like waves in the Madison park beach. She looks up, and the room spins.

_Spiraling_. That’s what they call it.

She decides she doesn’t need water. It’s all the way in the kitchen and the kitchen feels so, _so_ far. 

She sinks back into her bed, content. The blankets are so beautifully soft. One of them used to be Derek’s. Blue, and a little itchy, but right now it might as well be pure gold for how good it makes her feel. God, she feels so good.

Why did she ever stop doing this? (She knows why. Ryan. Christopher. But she can’t even think of his name without her breath catching, so right now she’ll just think of how good she feels.)

She feels this pulsing, warm sensation, that carries with it a sense of calmness and reassurance. She lets out a deep sigh of relief and stretches her arms over her head. But she’s itchy. Her hands, her nose, her head. Itchy. She scratches and scratches, waiting for satisfaction, waiting to stop scratching. She never does.

Then she wants water again, so she goes down into the kitchen to get some from the fridge. To be honest, she is in awe of the gorgeous house Derek built. It’s so beautiful, and spacious, and she feels so proud in the moment. 

She gets the water, with ice, and it tastes better than she remembers. Cold, refreshing. 

Everyone is gone, or dead, and it burns, deep in her chest. She’s laying down now, though, and the happiness overpowers the hurt. She scratches her hands again.

She’s so high, she knows. She pretends she isn’t. She pretends she’s just happy.

Physical numbness, replaced by opiate joy.

It's her synthetic hug. It reassures her everything will be okay, will be fine. She relishes in it, and believes it, even though she knows it's not true.

Her eyes become heavy, as if they’re 20 pound weights she’s being forced to keep open. But she’s not. Being forced. So, she closes her eyes.

—

Richard and Maggie show up sometime in the next week, and god, does knocking always sound that loud?

She stumbles her way to the door, tripping over herself. She’s painfully aware of how she looks right now, so it’s no surprise that when she opens the door all Richard gives her is a disappointed sigh. 

“Amelia!” Maggie exclaims, “You’re alive!” Maggie leans in to hug Amelia, and Amelia lets it happen. It’s just what Maggie does, she tells herself. She’s a hugger. She steps back from the hug and trips a bit, regaining her balance by placing her hand on the doorframe. 

“Are you okay? You seem a little dazed.” Maggie says, concerned eyes basically boring into Amelia’s soul.

“Sorry,” she says “yeah I’m fine. I just woke up, and- uh, I’m a little out of it.” Amelia rubs her eyes. It’s not _entirely_ false. She _did_ just wake up, and she _is_ a little out of it.

“Oh.” Maggie says, and now her eyes are more observant than concerned.

“We thought we’d come by to see how you were doing, you know, Meredith leaving and all. May we come in?” Richard asks and of _course_ he would ask that _now_. At 10am. 

Amelia panics inside. It’s clear what she was doing in there, I mean, there’s a vodka bottle on the counter and she’s pretty sure she never wiped the oxy off the table. She’s screwed. Plus, Richard already knew from the moment she opened the door that she relapsed. She could tell he knew. The eyes.

Whatever, she thinks. It’s not his place to judge. He’s an addict too, plus he’s done way worse than daydrink or snort some oxy on a Thursday.

“Sure, yeah, come on in.”

—

“So… how have you been holding up?” Maggie asks, and Amelia can’t help but let out a short, spiteful laugh. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m good actually, great, even!”

“Amelia.” Maggie puts her hand on Amelia’s arm. Maggie’s like this, she tells herself. Touchy. It makes her itch. She scratches her hand. 

“Shouldn’t you be asking Meredith this?” Amelia says, narrowing her eyes.

“W-well we tried,” Richard says, standing up and collecting the empty vodka bottles from the ground. “she’s not answering anyone. Not even Alex.”

Amelia chuckles, vicious, again. “Yeah, she _would_ be the one to disappear.”

Richard sets the empty bottles on the kitchen counter, and dumps the full ones down the sink.

Amelia snaps her head over to him, “Hey! What the hell?”

He turns his head over to Amelia, “You don’t need these.”

Amelia scoffs, and stands up. “What, you think because you’re an alcoholic you can come in here telling me what I do and don’t need?”

“Amy,” Maggie starts.

“My brother died!”

Richard and Maggie share a look, and it frustrates Amelia she can’t tell what it means.

“Yeah, I said it.” Amelia walks closer to Richard. “You two have been dancing around the words, but he _died._ He’s _dead._ And this,” She takes out a bag of oxy from her pocket and holds it in between two fingers. “is the only thing keeping me sane right now. I _need_ it. And those.” She gestures towards the vodka bottles.

Richard steps closer, as if approaching a small wounded animal. “I know you think you need them right now. You’re grieving.” 

Amy snickers, “ _Meredith_ is grieving. I’m doing what I have to do.” 

“Amelia,” Maggie says, “we’re here to help you.”

She snaps her head to look at Maggie. “I don’t need _help_ , I need to be left alone.” It’s a lie, she knows. She needs help. Richard knows that too. 

“Amelia,” Richard starts,

“Stop saying my name!” She snaps, and then feels bad, when she sees the tears in Maggie’s eyes. “Look, guys, I appreciate you checking on me, but I don’t need it. I’m fine. Derek is dead, and I’m fine. Go see if you can track down Meredith or something.”

They leave, not on their own accord, only because a mass trauma comes in and they both get paged. A car crash. Fitting. 

—

She hears Derek’s voice in her head, 

_You’re fragile, amy._

She crushes the pills.

She hears her own voice, younger. More specifically, 15 years old, 

_Derek, I took pills again._

She grabs the straw.

She hears Owen’s voice in her head, 

_Derek. Derek is dead._

She breathes the oxy in, and tips her head back against the headboard.

She can’t escape. She can’t escape the voices, the drugs, the cycle.

History really does repeat itself, she supposes.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> so I wrote this in like an hour LOL, lmk if y’all want a second chapter


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